


current mood: sexually frustrated

by lecornergirl



Series: literally just sex wow [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, basically just smut i'm not gonna lie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 15:05:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5252717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecornergirl/pseuds/lecornergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Current mood: sort of glad I’ve only ever had really mediocre sex so it’s like I don’t even know what I’m missing,” Clarke says, flopping onto the couch with a sigh.</p><p>Octavia looks up from her perch on the giant armchair with a look on her face that Clarke doesn’t quite trust. “About that. I’ve had a thought.” She shows Clarke her phone, which is open to her texts with Bellamy. The most recent one from him says "ugh i haven’t gotten laid in so long this is painful", to which Octavia had replied "ew gross bell im ur baby sister i dont need to hear that". Which is completely fair, but—</p><p>“O, I’m not going to have sex with your big brother. We have had this conversation.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	current mood: sexually frustrated

“Current mood: sort of glad I’ve only ever had really mediocre sex so it’s like I don’t even know what I’m missing,” Clarke says, flopping onto the couch with a sigh.

Octavia looks up from her perch on the giant armchair with a look on her face that Clarke doesn’t quite trust. “About that. I’ve had a thought.” She shows Clarke her phone, which is open to her texts with Bellamy. The most recent one from him says _ugh i haven’t gotten laid in so long this is painful_ , to which Octavia had replied _ew gross bell im ur baby sister i dont need to hear that_. Which is completely fair, but—

“O, I’m not going to have sex with your big brother. We have had this conversation.”

“Okay, but I don’t see why not though,” she says, and Clarke is about to cut in but the look she gets stops her. “It’d be, like, for science.”

“How do you mean, for science? Science doesn’t need to figure out how to have sex. I’m pretty sure science is fairly solid on how sex works.”

“Well, I mean, I have it on good if not extremely reluctantly heard authority that he would be better than mediocre, so you’d have that knowledge.”

“So what would he get out of this?” Clarke asks, humouring her. Or that’s what she’s telling herself; she’s only humouring Octavia. She is definitely not thinking about having sex with Bellamy Blake. She is definitely not imagining running her hands through his hair, or what his hands would feel like on her body… nope, not thinking about that at all.

“I dunno, man, he’d get laid and maybe I wouldn’t have to listen to him bitching about it for an entire week or so. Maybe longer, considering that if you guys hooked up I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t just be once—” this time Clarke does cut her off. With a pillow. Thrown at her face.

“Octavia, I don’t care how many times you say it, I’m not going to date Bellamy. We’re not like that.”

“I’m sure you’re not,” her roommate says, ducking to avoid another pillow that’s heading for her. “You two sure seem close to me.”

“Yeah, but as friends, you know?” Even as she says it, Clarke can hear how flimsy it sounds.

“Because that excuse is always true,” Octavia says, and Clarke knows she’s right. But she and Bellamy are definitely just friends. Probably.

  
* * *

  
The thing is, once Octavia has mentioned it, Clarke can’t stop thinking about it. About Bellamy.

It’s not like she’d never noticed the boy was attractive, because objectively, _goddamn_. But now she can’t not notice it.

Which is mildly distracting when they’re at Bellamy’s apartment, supposedly working in silence. She’s working on her master’s thesis, he’s grading high school history papers, and they’re supposed to be working together because none of their other friends actually have jobs that require them to bring stuff home, and Clarke’s the last one still in school, so they’re trying to be productive together.

But her thesis isn’t half as interesting as Bellamy’s arms are when he puts them behind his head to stretch out. Apparently he isn’t having much luck concentrating either—although probably for different reasons—as he looks up and says, “Want to check out what’s on Netflix?”

It’s a bad idea, Clarke knows, as she gets up from where she was sprawled on the floor and sprawls on the couch instead, dangerously close to Bellamy. This is not a thing that’s supposed to be happening. She needs to keep her distance, on account of the whole “I am not having sex with my roommate’s brother” thing. But he puts an arm around her and pulls her closer without even thinking about it, like he always does, and it’s too late. Clarke’s gone.

Bellamy is warm and comfortable, and Clarke feels like she’s always been here, tucked into his side. It feels like home, which is way beyond whatever Octavia was insinuating, and so Clarke decides to ignore that for now. But she can’t ignore the way Bellamy wraps his other arm around her waist and sets his chin on her head, like he’s trying to engulf her. She tries to turn her head to look at him, but it’s too much effort, so she just leans back against him.

It’s not like she’s never touched Bellamy before, but tonight she’s feeling like a middle schooler with her first crush. She can’t focus on the movie they picked, or anything else for that matter, except for the heat radiating from Bellamy’s body at all the places they’re touching each other.

It might be time to admit to herself that despite what she told Octavia, she might kind of want to date Bellamy.

And once she’s admitted it to herself, it’s time to act on it, because Clarke Griffin doesn’t do things halfway. It’s all or nothing. She twists around to look at him, and has just opened her mouth to say something—what, she’s not quite sure, but she’ll figure it out—when he kisses her.

His lips are soft, and the moment she feels them against hers she knows there’s no going back. Normally, she’d chide her subconscious for the cliché, but she’s sort of otherwise occupied at the moment.

He draws back after just a few moments, staring at her with an unreadable expression in his eyes. She stares back, breathing hard. He must find what he’s looking for in her face because his lips are back, and if she thought the first kiss was good, this one blows her away.

Suddenly, a doubt forms in her mind, and she pulls away from him. He looks at her with concern, and she smiles. “Hey, so, you know that I’m trying to date you, right?” she asks, and he laughs.

“That’s good, because I’m trying to date you too,” he says, pushing a stray bit of hair back from her face.

“Okay, good, I’m glad we settled that,” she says and moves so she’s straddling his lap. She kisses him this time, and he surges to meet her.

Her hands fist in his hair, and he bites down gently on her bottom lip. She sighs into his mouth, and his hands go to the hem of her sweater, his fingers trailing up her sides until he reaches her bra. His thumbs brush over the cups, and she shudders.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, and she responds by stripping off her shirt, giving him unrestricted access to her bra. His eyes widen a little when he first sees her without her shirt, but Bellamy Blake is a goal-oriented man, and the bra is off in no time. He takes a moment then to appreciate the sight of Clarke, topless, in his lap, her lips puffy from kissing him and desire starkly visible in her eyes. He lowers his mouth to one of her breasts, and when he takes her nipple in his mouth Clarke can feel him twitching against her through the threadbare sweatpants he’s wearing.

She whines a little, reaching for the hem of his shirt, and Bellamy releases her breast long enough for her to pull it over his head. He resumes his earlier activities, and Clarke traces patterns across his back with her nails, moaning when he brings his hand up to play with her other breast. She finds a spot at the nape of his neck that makes him shiver when she touches it, and by this point he’s completely hard against her.

He lifts his head to kiss her again, and she gasps as his fingers slip into her leggings to stroke her through her underwear. “Fuck, Clarke,” he breathes.

“That’s the objective,” she manages to quip before he turns to the side so she’s lying under him on the sofa. He drags her leggings and underwear off, giving her a quick, hard kiss before planting smaller ones down her jawline, on her breasts, and in a trail leading down her belly. She giggles at the ticklish sensation when he kisses her inner thighs, and the sound turns into a moan as his tongue hits her folds.

Clarke’s hands scrabble for purchase, and he reaches up to take one of them. He uses his other hand to insert two fingers into her, licking around them, and she cries out.

He keeps at it until she’s writhing on the sofa, unable to stop her breaths from coming out as pants and whimpers. Bellamy twists his fingers inside her and she comes with a jolt, clenching around him and moaning his name. He lifts his head from between her legs, wearing the most self-satisfied grin she’s ever seen. She pulls him up by the hair so she can kiss him, savouring the taste of herself on his tongue. It’s like he belongs to her, now.

His cock twitches against her, and she frowns a little at how much clothing he’s still wearing. It’s her turn to push him back and strip him of his clothes, and she’s just about to take him in her mouth when he stops her, muttering disjointedly. “Clarke, stop—I can’t, I’m gonna—”

Smiling wickedly, she flicks the tip of him with her tongue. “You’re clean?” she asks, fingers dancing across his cock, and he nods. “Good, so am I,” she says, and lowers herself onto him until he’s completely buried in her. He hisses, grabbing her hips. She leans down to kiss him, and begins to move her hips experimentally. He sticks to her slow pace for all of two seconds before his movements speed up, become more frantic, and Clarke’s right there with him.

His hand finds her clit and rubs erratic circles on it as his hips buck harder and harder, and by some magic of chance they come at the same moment. They catch their breath for a moment, then he pulls her down to nestle against him and tugs a blanket over them from the back of the sofa.

“Wait, where’s my phone?” Clarke asks sleepily after a few minutes. 

“Why?” Bellamy asks, but he’s already handing her his. “Here, mine’s closer.”

“Smile!” is the only warning she gives him before snapping a selfie of the two of them. She sends it to Octavia with the caption _okay so you might have been right_ …

She’ll deal with the fallout of that tomorrow.


End file.
